Colligo
by theoceaninside
Summary: Tom Riddle has been manipulating Time Turners and Hermione Granger has recently received one with the initials T M R engraved onto its back. When the two are thrust together after an unseen force rips through the time barrier they find themselves in a completely new Hogwarts. As Hermione searches for a way home, Tom realises that she is the only taste of the future he may ever have
1. Chapter 1

Tom Riddle had been practising with Time Turners. Of course, he shouldn't have even been aware of their existence and it certainly wasn't simple to obtain one. He'd had to flatter Slughorn ever since 5th year in order to be even close to coming into contact with one. Before Slughorn he'd been sure that they were some sort of myth, but alas, the stupid, desperate old man had let slip that they did indeed exist and that he'd actually seen one. Ever since then it had been Tom's mission to get his hands on one, though it had been much harder than he had anticipated.

He'd finally managed at the start of his seventh year when Slughorn had presented him with the time turner in a small box, covered in an amethyst sky with golden stars splashed across the background. He'd expected a watch; of course that would have been the first gift Slughorn would have thought of seeing as the Muggle orphanage he was raised in had no idea that seventeen held such importance in his world. He had been furious at himself when he had seen his gift, it seemed he had painfully underestimated Slughorn's ambition, he was a Slytherin after all.

In the box he had found a time turner. He could hardly believe his luck, but he caught himself before his face showed any intention of what he planned to do with his gift.

"Just a secret between us, yes my boy?" Slughorn had grinned almost manically, his hands were resting on his stomach as he studied Tom deeply, trying to gauge a level of emotion from him.

"Of … Of course, Sir." Tom had to keep up his act. Sweet, humble, charming muggle-born boy who was so hard done by and needed the kindness of his favourite teacher to help him realise his potential. It made Tom sick, but alas he found it easy to slip into this character, he practically lived in this role when he was at Hogwarts. "I just can't believe you were able to-" Tom forced himself to choke up with emotion. "It's just … No one has ever cared enough about me to make so much of an effort before…" He whispered before dutifully hanging his head in shame.

"Oh, my boy!" Slughorn gasped before resting his hands on Tom's shoulders roughly so that he was staring into Tom's grey eyes. "Really, it was no trouble. Don't you ever think of yourself as any less of incredibly talented, do you hear me?"

Tom forced himself to crack a small, weak smile that he knew would convince Slughorn that he had done a good job. "Of course, Sir. I'm just so thankful. You're really the best teacher I've ever had." Tom straightened himself out and held out a hand for the potions master to shake.

"Oh please, it's the least you deserve." Slughorn grinned and clasped Tom's hand. His hand was large and clammy and Tom had to force himself not to let his face show a hint of the disgust he felt. "Such a strong handshake!" Slughorn had exclaimed before letting go of his hand.

Tom smiled humbly and gave a small graceful bow before he delicately lifted up the box, carefully ensuring the lid was on firmly. He'd rather die than let another soul rest their eyes on his present, his _prize._

Tom's back was soaked in sweat, something that did no doubt irk him to no end, but he was _so close_ to completing his little experiment. He pushed back a lock of curls that had fallen over his eyes. His lips were cracked and raw from where he had been chewing them in concentration, occasionally he would gently dab at his lip with his finger and lick the speck of blood that came away with from his mouth. His fingers had been curled around the small mechanic device he was certain that if he tried to straighten them out they would crack and crumble when he resumed work, so he didn't stop.

It had taken many failed attempts and several fits of rage before he had even realised where he had wanted to end up at the end of his troubles with the time turner. Certainly not the past, what would there be to relive? His mother drugging and raping, which at its very core was what she was doing, his father? His father leaving a heavily pregnant witch with tears staining her dirty, muggle loving face? No, the past was definitely not an option, there was nothing for him there?

But the future?

The future held an entirely different promise. It was just whether he could manipulate his time turner to go _forwards_ and not _backwards._ That was the problem. Tom had known it would obviously be extremely difficult to do, but not once had he questioned his abilities. Even when Malfoy and Lestrange had questioned him as to what in Merlin's beard he thought he was playing at, messing with something like a Time Turner that did, essentially, belong to the _Ministry_ no less. But no, Tom did not doubt his abilities.

So when he was finally able to spin the hourglass forward, he was not even slightly surprised.

"Honestly, Ronald, it's like you don't even _try_ to understand!" Hermione scolded her best friend, they were arguing over the enslavement of house elves and of course Ron was unable to understand why she was so passionate. According to him, the house elves liked being enslaved, which Hermione obviously refused to believe.

"No Hermione, it's just-"

"Ow!" She barely managed to yelp as she felt a searing hot pain on the hollow of her chest.

"What?" The determination slid from Ron's face as he leaned closer to Hermione.

"My … Nothing, I bit my lip. I need to go sort out my lip, go without me, I'll see you in potions." With a heavy head and a burning heat in her chest, Hermione raced to the girl's bathroom.

Her time turner had burned. Physically _burned_. McGonagall had given her the last remaining Time Turner that hadn't been destroyed when Dumbledore's Army had fought the Death Eaters in the Department of Mysteries, though Hermione wasn't even slightly sure as to why, she had supposed that McGonagall hadn't even told Dumbledore of this, surely if she had Hermione would be hearing much more from Dumbledore than she was at present. The pain was white hot and spread through her body like fire and she only managed to slam the door of the bathroom when she felt a pain so intense that her knees buckled and she must have blacked out.

"Wake up."

A voice that seemed familiar hit her ears. Hermione racked her brain to try and place the voice to a face, but every time she tried her head felt as though it might split from the pain.

"What ….?" Hermione had barely managed to gasp before she was yanked into the seating position by someone with strong hands. They were cold, freezing cold. Hermione could even see her breath in front of her as she tried her hardest to intake breath.

"Who are you?" The voice spoke again, the tone, pitch, even the melody was so disconcertingly reminiscent of someone she had known before … Or perhaps she hadn't. She was far too disoriented to try and pull memories from the back of her brain at the present moment. But even so … Though she recognised the voice, Hermione was vaguely aware that the voice was not that of a friend's.

"I'm Hermione." Rubbing the heels of her palms into her eyes to try and block out her bright surroundings she finally tried to make sense of where she was.

The light was the only thing she was able to take in. It felt as though someone had captured the light of an old camera's flashing bulb in the peak of taking a photo, bottled it and released it into her new surroundings. The logical thing was that she was hallucinating, surely? No one was simply plucked from their previous surroundings, was dropped into some sort of purgatory and she was damn sure that Time Turner's didn't _burn._

"Tom," The voice replied curtly, holding out a hand to help Hermione up. And then she saw him. Tom Riddle. "The blinding white light? It disappears shortly." He said softly, as though he was actually trying to comfort her.

Hermione yanked her hand free of Tom and stumbled backwards a few paces, this was all wrong. She was hallucinating, it was the only logical explanation! There is no possible way she has been thrown together with Tom Riddle of all people. No, it's impossible. Hermione was constantly told she was the smartest witch of her age, and the smartest witch of her age did _not_ have hallucinations about the man who would grow up to ruin so many lives.

"What's wrong? Despite the obvious change in surroundings, I mean." Tom seemed completely unfazed by everything that was happening, it was almost as if-

 _No._

"Stay away from me!" Hermione tried to scream louder than she actually did, but her voice was so hoarse from her passing out that it came out as a cracked screech and she saw Riddle visibly wince.

"Well, I'm not _entirely_ sure where we are, but I know how I got here and I have a sneaky suspicion as to how you did also." Tom remained guarded, clearly this future girl knew him and didn't trust him. He would have to play this carefully.

"You're Tom Riddle." Hermione whispered softly, she wondered if she should even divulge this much information to him. She tried to keep a calm exterior but she was a mess. She was in an unknown place with the literal antichrist standing in front of her.

"How did you know that?" Tom's breath hitched. So she _was_ from the future, he had done it! Well, not completely, but he was revolutionary! He had done something no one else had!

"I think you already know that." Hermione responded icily, she was going to keep him at a very, very, very lengthy distance. Preferably nowhere near herself.

"You're … From the future?" He swallowed hard. It was no good celebrating yet, he had to be _sure._

"I was born in 1979 …" Hermione closed her eyes and tried to swallow down the heavy lump she felt in her throat. "I am sixteen years old."

Tom's head started spinning, he'd actually done it. He never doubted himself, of course but this was … Well, extraordinary.

"Where are we?" Hermione's arms were now folded tightly over her chest and Tom allowed himself the opportunity to study her.

Her hair fell in light brown ringlets and he noticed that the left side of her hair had more volume than the right, meaning that the ringlets were often of different sizes and was her natural hair. From this he gathered that Hermione didn't care for looks, which was usually associated with being bookish. Being bookish meant she was probably extremely clever. Not like him, but … Clever. Her eyes were a soft brown, that turned steely as soon as she recognised who he was. He saw hatred in her eyes, something that fascinated him no end. What had he done in her time? Hermione was shorter than him, he supposed around 5'5, give or take. She had a slight frame, no match for him physically. Tom Riddle concluded that Hermione Granger was nice to look at and if he was right about her smarts, would be thrilling in conversation.

"I think we're in Hogwarts. Which part?" Tom looked around, his arms sweeping as if to show off their surroundings to her. "No clue." He looked straight at her now. "Do you have a Time Turner?"

Hermione's eyes widened and instinctively her hand went for the golden chain around her neck. What did he know of Time Turners? Harry had never mentioned that Tom Riddle knew Time Turners even existed, so unless there was something Dumbledore must have missed? No, Dumbledore knew Riddle better than anyone. If he knew of Time Turner's, Dumbledore would have known. So how was she in this predicament?

"I'm going to take the obvious fumbling to your chest as a resounding yes, now, let me see it." Tom had no concern for this girl, but he wouldn't even try to deny that she was incredibly fascinating. Why had she come here? Clearly it had been him who had done it and he had a very small, slight theory as to why she was here.

"No." Hermione bit back. Obviously she didn't like Riddle anyway, but she found it impossible to see why the teachers had such a soft spot for this boy. He was rude and ill mannered, arrogant and impatient.

Tom's features darkened. _No?_ This surely meant there was a challenge, he could hear it in her words. No one dared deny him, if she knew who he was then she surely knew his influence?

"It's to help you get home. Now let me see." Tom took a small yet deliberate step forward, palm outstretched for her time turner.

"Why would I let you?" Hermione practically spat and backed away, until she hit something solid.

They were definitely in Hogwarts, it was obvious but she had never seen this part of the castle before. It certainly wasn't in the Gryffindor domain and judging by Riddle's reaction it wasn't anything to do with Slytherin. Hufflepuff or Ravenclaw perhaps? No, why would they have been dropped someone near two house quarters neither of them associated with? Now that she thought about it … There were no students around. No students, no teachers, no … Anyone. It was almost as if the room had appeared specifically for them … The Room of Requirement.

"Wait!" Hermione wanted him to know how smart she was, maybe he wouldn't talk down to her like she was nothing she showed him this. "I know where we are."

"Just show the Time- Excuse me?" Tom frowned as he pushed his curls away from his eyes yet again. "And where exactly are we?" He cocked an eyebrow and folded his arms, mirroring her image.

"The Room of Requirement." Hermione responded and she tried desperately to keep her smugness out of her tone.

Tom's mouth dropped into a small 'O' before he was able to recover himself. She was clever, perhaps a little smarter than he had expected, but he wasn't there to make friends. He wanted to know about the future and she was his best bet seeing as he couldn't quite get himself there yet. "So we are."

Hermione studied her opponent, she saw that he was very calculated in his actions. Nothing went by without him noticing, nothing. His eyes bore into hers and she scolded herself when she actually looked away, she was meant to show he didn't intimidate her. She was a Gryffindor, wasn't she?

"Anyway," Tom rolled his eyes. He knew what she was trying to do. She was trying to read him which he knew was impossible. After all, he was the natural Legilimens and not her. "I'm telling you how you got here."

"And why are you telling me this information?" Hermione frowned, clearly more confused than scared that he knew.

Tom opened his mouth to retort and then closed it again. He licked his lips as he thought of a response; his tongue bumping over the ridges on his lips that had been bitten. A bad habit of his admittedly.

"I brought you here."

Hermione rolled the words around her head, frowning. But Voldemort hadn't known about Time Turners, she was absolutely certain.

"How?"

"Does your Time Turner look like this?" Tom held up his own, clearly modified with different trinkets and mechanisms on it. Hermione opened her mouth to say no, hers looked nothing alike, but something stopped her. The dimly lit room flashed against an engraving on his time turner.

 _T.M.R_

Hermione's Time Turner had the exact engravings on hers.

"They are the same, aren't they? Albeit not exactly the same, so you know what I think, Hermione?" Riddle cocked an eyebrow, daring her to answer. She didn't. "You're clearly from the future and you're surprised that I know of Time Turners, I can practically see your brain ticking. This makes me think that we are on two different time lines which leads me to believe that someone is willing to rip through time in order to bring us together."


	2. Chapter 2

**AN- just wanted to say a huge thank you to the guest who left a review who told me that this story hadn't shown up in the Tom and Hermione sections, so thanks! Also, just want to know if you find my switching perspectives too much or do you think I should alternate more clearly? Would be appreciated! Anyway, enjoy.**

Dumbledore's office was almost identical to the office he owned in Hermione's timeline, though Dumbledore claimed to be completely unbiased she could still see hints of red and gold littered about the room. Between the two of them they had come up with a plan to enroll at Hogwarts for the year, Tom in his seventh year and Hermione in her sixth. It had been Tom's idea originally, but Hermione had simply argued that she was just as smart as him and that she could easily sit seventh year with him.

It was only the thought of spending all of her time with him that deterred her from seventh year.

They both sat in beautifully detailed chairs that seemed to compliment the rest of the room tastefully as they waited for the Headmaster to arrive. Hermione was a bundle of nerves, tapping her wand loosely against her right knee as she bounced her left, her new muggle clothes felt stiff and uncomfortable.

Hermione and Tom weren't exactly sure of what time period they were in being that she was from the future (she refused to reveal anymore about the future to Tom, despite his asking) and him being from the past, so as Tom had sat on one of the sofas with his legs crossed as he drew up their plan for the year, Hermione had thought long and hard and wished for muggle clothes for the time period they were currently in.

Tom Riddle was now sat across from her in faded blue jeans and an emerald green jumper and Hermione was convinced that green was the only colour that would ever suit him, she couldn't imagine the future dark lord in anything other that Slytherin colours.

That being said, she couldn't deny how physically attractive he was. To her, it seemed almost a shame that Riddle had grown up to tear apart his soul and thus his appearance. He had dark brown or perhaps black hair, Hermione hadn't decided yet, that was kept short at the sides and back of his head, but the hair on top of his head was wavy as though curling into ringlets and there were a few curls that had grown so much that they flicked into his eyes when he spoke and resulted in him pushing them back. Hermione had already decided that his eyes were dangerous. They darkened when she disagreed or argued with something he said and were so unreadable that she struggled to gauge his reaction to her more often than not. That being said, they were also a soft grey that were filled with excitement and pride at being able to get to the 'future' or wherever they were.

Hermione, on the other hand was sat in a soft pastel pink jumper, almost identical to the texture of Tom's jumper except that hers was a little fuzzier, she sported a pair of extremely tight black jeans so she assumed that wherever they were it was far closer to her original time than his.

"Ah, Miss Granger and Mr Riddle." Hermione almost started when Dumbledore's voice drifted in from the doorway which held a phoenix statue. The familiarity from his voice made Hermione's heart hurt. She had refused to allow herself to think the people from her timeline that she had left behind, but she hadn't had time to prepare herself for the storm of memories that she thought she had buried deep to come choking to the surface at hearing Dumbledore's voice.

"Headmaster," Tom flashed a smile that almost made Hermione forget who he was, who he'd become. "It's extremely helpful of you to agree to let us enroll so late."

"And turn two students with some of the highest results I've ever seen pass through this school? I think not." The old man smiled, twinkle in his eye and all.

Tom had managed to someone confund the administration system to show report cards for them both, Riddle had seemed impressed when Hermione had told him of her OWLs. Hermione was certain that Hermione would see through Tom's magic, but he hadn't mentioned anything as of yet.

"Well, we do try our hardest, sir." Tom flashed the smile again, but deep in Hermione's mind she knew that Dumbledore had never fallen for Tom's charm.

"I suppose you two best get yourselves sorted into a house then, no?" Dumbledore's eyes were kind as he spoke to them, but there was still a hint of suspicion that Hermione could see.

The two of them sat through a sort of induction to Hogwarts, though of course they both knew everything. Tom found it absurd he was even being sorted again, it wasn't like he didn't know what house he was going to be sorted into. Slytherin had always been in his blood, he was the heir of Slytherin for Merlin's sake! Hermione though … Of course, he knew that she was a Gryffindor but that was only because he had seen her uniform when they had first met, but there was something about her … He ruled Slytherin out for her, there was no way she would ever be a Slytherin. Ravenclaw and obviously Gryffindor were most likely, Tom supposed, but he also sensed a fierce loyalty to the people she had been taken from, Hufflepuff, perhaps?

As it happens, the sorting did not go in any sort of way Tom had planned.

Hermione had been sorted into Ravenclaw, not a massive shock to him he had supposed, but when he slipped the sorting hat onto his head, his entire plan for the year was rocked.

Ravenclaw!

Tom's palms had begun to sweat and he could see the obvious shock on Hermione's face. Her jaw had practically dropped and her eyes told him that even she hadn't seen this coming.

Dazed, he made his way to the Ravenclaw table and took a seat next to Granger. He was numb. How had that happened? His mind began ticking in a way to try and explain what had just happened, but it was the sixth year sat next to him that managed to come up with even some kind of logical explanation.

"Perhaps it's the timelines merging." She whispered in his ear, he could feel her breaths against his cheek and he inhaled deeply. People in a close proximity like this was not something he was used to, nor comfortable with. "It's beginning to erase ours and create a new one, thus the sorting hat sensed our intelligence as our dominant traits?"

Tom mulled over her words. She had known he was in Slytherin, he wasn't sure how much more she knew, but she had clearly been just as surprised at his sorting. Being a Ravenclaw was just something he didn't think of himself as. He knew he was incredibly smart, he'd been told so even before he found out he was a wizard, but being a Ravenclaw? Tom had Ravenclaw acquaintances back home, they were smart and he appreciated that, but they were not even a touch on him. Granger though ...

This wasn't the first time Granger had actually reached a logical conclusion before he had, she had done it earlier by figuring out they were in the room of requirement. He certainly admired her intelligence, she was definitely suited to Ravenclaw and that meant that she was going to be incredibly difficult to get information out of.

"Yes..." Tom chose his words carefully as he responded to her, as he leant over her he felt her whole body go rigid. "I think you might be right there."

Tom found that he enjoyed the lessons far much more in wherever he was now compared to his own home. The content was newer, fresher and he relished in the challenges that sat before him. Defense Against The Dark Arts was perhaps his favourite, he hadn't decided whether it was because it would be ironic, but he genuinely enjoyed learning in this subject. He had enjoyed it back home too, but there was always something that stopped his enjoyment of the class. Perhaps it was the fact that he knew he was much better at dark arts than light arts, or that the content he was being taught wasn't completely biased to the light arts. There were still essays set on the importance of dark arts and the villains that had been seen through this timeline, but it was at a balance with the light arts. Maybe if he had been taught this in his own timeline he would have mastered his dark spells much faster, it was tiring having to research them yourself.

He had noticed all of the whispers he seemed to be getting too, that was normal. A lot of them were females, that was what he'd expected. But when a girl shyly waved at him from across the Transfiguration classroom he had given a crooked smile in response. He needed all the 'friends' he could get here.

Tom's mind had wandered to the thought of how he actually managed to get to this timeline before he even realised. He had assumed he had done it on his own, he had figured out how to make time turners go forward, after all, it was all him, surely? But there was a niggling notion in the back of Tom's mind that led him to believe that someone had already figured out how to go forwards. But how did that explain how Hermione got his time turner? It shouldn't be possible.

He decided to try to read up on time travel in the library after his lessons had finished. He didn't want to go back home until he found more out about his future self from Hermione and he supposed that it would be a long time. Hermione was desperate to get home, so it would help if he had a bit of ... Leverage over her; such as figuring out how to get home. He would have his information and Hermione would have her home.

He was interrupted mid thought when a girl sat opposite him. She had long, sleek black hair and piercing blue eyes and even Tom couldn't deny her beauty.

"I'm Melinda." Melinda smiled softly and held out her hand, she was in Slytherin, maybe that was why Tom decided to be nice to her.

"Tom." He nodded in response and brushed his lips softly against her hand rather than shake it. He cocked an eyebrow at her response. "Of course, you would have found that somewhat chilling if you weren't so attracted to me."

"Modest, too!" Melinda tossed back her hair and let out a laugh that felt so genuine even Tom had to smile. "But you're right."

"Of course I am." Tom pushed back his curls with his hand as he looked at her. "I am very rarely wrong."

Hermione had spent nearly the entire day worrying about how she was going to get home. She wondered if time passed normally in this new, foreign land as it did in her home. Maybe to Harry and Ron she had only been gone a minute or so; the thought chilled her.

She'd managed to find a quiet table in the library that afternoon and she found as many books about time travel that she could and begun to plough through the long, tedious texts. This library was raring with life. Kids of all years were playing wizarding chess, some were gossiping excitedly in the corner filled with beanbags and others were helping each other study.

The only thing that caught her attention was Tom Riddle, seemingly flirting with Melinda Reins.

She bided her time patiently and allowed herself to use this opportunity to assess her enemy, Riddle, of course. She noticed that his smile was not as perfect as she had first thought, he smiled crookedly, like a puppet with only the right side of its strings working. He also spoke a lot with his hands, which was completely surprising to Hermione. She had expected him to be poised and relaxed when he spoke to people, hands folded neatly in his lap, but no. Here he was talking animatedly to a girl with hands flying all over the place and Hermione didn't beat herself up over the fact that she smiled at the thought off the Dark Lord being passionate about something that wasn't bigotry.

Tom Riddle caught Hermione Granger smile as she watched him and he knew that his plan was working.


End file.
